Words have different meanings in different places. In New York, viable meant worth doing, possible. A new creative project; a play, a musical to consider. Or it was a solution to a creative problem a friend was having. It meant my advice was wanted and sought. I was viable every day and I gave freely.
Living back in my hometown in Michigan it means a job, usually hourly, that pays almost a livable wage, is less than 45 minutes from my house and includes health insurance. The industry and scope of the work doesn’t matter.
No one seeks my advice and my opinion is not wanted. I no longer feel viable. I often feel invisible.
As a writer, being invisible has a viability of it’s own.
You can listen and observe and no one notices. People reveal their lives with abandoned. So much to write about when you’re invisible. You are safe and all walls are down.
When you are viable it is hard to be invisible, but when you are invisible, you can make yourself viable and than disappear again. I like that.